


Five times Eliza didn't let Maria in, one time she did.

by jasminescephas



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Cheating, mentions of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminescephas/pseuds/jasminescephas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza and Maria deserved so much better than they got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Eliza didn't let Maria in, one time she did.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so historically inaccurate it's out of control. 
> 
> It is implied that James is still physically abusive to Maria. 
> 
> Eliza isn't in a good place after Alexander dies, so in no way are her actions healthy.

**I.**

It's quiet, Eliza realizes. It's been quiet since July. Eliza's not sure if she's even moved from her chair since July, she can't remember. The only memories she has of the last two months are of tiny dust particles floating through the small amount of sunlight allowed into the room, and then disappearing into the shadows. Has she eaten anything, has she gone to sleep, has she seen her children in these two months following Alexander's death? She must have, but she can't remember.

There's a knock at the door, Eliza's sure of it. She's heard knocking before, but she's never been able to tell whether it's real or not. Sometimes it's Alexander knocking at the door, claiming he left his key at the law office. Sometimes it's Philip, eager to spend a weekend away from King's College with his family. Sometimes it's Peggy, all smiles as she wraps Eliza in her arms and tells her stories of her own life. 

But they aren't real, Eliza has to remind herself every time she opens the door, biting back tears. Alexander, Philip, and Peggy are dead. She has to repeat it over and over again like some sort of chant. That's why the house is so quiet, the noise died along with them.

The knocking continues, and despite her better judgement, Eliza stands to answer it. Even if it's not real, even if she knows it's all in her mind, Eliza wants to see her husband, son, and sister again. Only a moment, she thinks, and that would be enough.

She can tell it's been some time since she's gotten up, her legs threatening to give beneath her as he walks to the door. The lock, she finds, isn't even in use, and whomever is at the door could've walked in without her assistance. Nonetheless, she twists the doorknob and pulls the heavy door back, blinded momentarily by the sunlight that hits her.

After her eyes adjust, she squints at the figure standing in front of her. It's not Alexander, no, it's too small to be him. It definitely isn't Philip either, nor is it Peggy. No, Eliza's never seen this person before.

"Who are you?" Eliza's voice is weak from weeks of nonuse, but the person standing in front of her doesn't seem to mind.

"I'm Maria Reynolds, I came to talk to Elizabeth Schuyler," the woman's voice is smooth, almost soothing in a way. Eliza's heard that name before, she's absolutely sure of it. Could she be one of Philip's friends? No, she looks closer to Eliza's age than Philip's. Might she be one of Peggy or Angelica's socialite friends? No, the name Reynolds, she feels like it came from Alexander's mouth before one of her sister's. 

That's when it hits her.

The affair. The Reynolds Pamphlet. Three years. Almost a thousand dollars. She never met the woman Alexander was secretly engaging with for three years, but she'd heard the last name too many times to count when Alexander revealed the affair himself. Reynolds. That name kept her awake many a night.

She's beautiful. She's stunning. She can imagine Alexander thinking the same thing when she approached him, much like she's doing to Eliza in this very moment. She's staring at Eliza with hopeful eyes, but having been confined to a plainly colored room for months now, Eliza can't move her eyes from the woman's bright red lips.

"Why?"

"I, well," Maria pauses, pursing her lips. "I'm not actually sure, to be honest. But I felt it was the right thing to do."

Eliza's mind is full of bitter thoughts, ones that don't usually occupy any space in her brain. But this woman, this girl that Alexander kept in secret for so many years, is asking to speak to his widow, claiming that it's the right action. The woman who changed Eliza and Alexander's relationship forever is asking to speak to her. The girl who reminded Eliza that she'd never be enough for Alexander, that what Eliza had would never satisfy him, is on her doorstep. It's this woman's fault that she and Alexander-

No. It's not her fault, Eliza has to remind herself. Alexander could've remained faithful, but he chose not to. Maria, if Eliza remembers correctly, is married to an abusive man. He beat her, so she turned to another for support. Eliza can't blame her for seeking refuge in Alexander's arms, she can't blame this helpless woman for what happened. She just can't.

But that doesn't mean that the sight of her doesn't make Eliza's stomach churn.

She shuts the door. She locks it. She pays no attention to the knocking as she finds her chair and sits down. After what feels like years, the loud sounds of knuckles banging against wood disappear, and silence once again overtakes the house.

**II.**

It's October when Eliza remembers that there's a lake in the park near her father's house. It's too cold to make the trip, but Eliza decides to repeat the sentence over and over again until spring so that she doesn't forget. 

The children are coping. They're all back in school, and Eliza hates to admit it, but the selfish side of her likes when they're away. She knows that they need their mother more than anything, but there are still days where she can't even get out of bed, much less assume the role she played before Alexander died. She's trying, but it's so, so difficult.

Angelica's a constant fixture in the house now, much to Eliza's relief. She's taken to caring for the kids while Eliza's unable, and Eliza finds herself relying on her older sister as well. Sometimes Eliza can make out the sound of Angelica's voice from down the hall, telling stories of their aunt Peggy to the children. Eliza thinks that she finds more joy in them than the children do.

Knuckles rasp against the wooden door every single day, at the exact same time, like clockwork. Eliza knows it's Maria, she watches from the second story window as she gives up after twenty minutes of knocking and disappears down the street, only to reappear the next day. Maria's real, she's not like Alexander, Philip, and Peggy. She's all flesh and blood and determination and Eliza's not sure what her motive is.

When Angelica answered the door the other day, Maria had begged to be let in. Just to speak with Ms. Schuyler for a moment, Eliza listened with her ear pressed against the floorboards of her upstairs bedroom. Angelica hadn't been unkind to Maria, and Eliza was grateful for that. Maria doesn't deserve Angelica's anger, nor does she deserve Eliza's. She'd been kindly turned away by the older Schuyler, who insisted that Eliza had nothing to say to Maria.

But Eliza isn't sure that that's entirely true. Does she have something to say to Maria? Bits and phrases of questions buzz around in her head too quickly for Eliza to form into real sentences. There's a million things she'd like to say to Maria, but at the same time, she has absolutely nothing to say.

Angelica left early this morning, promising that she'd be back by nightfall. Eliza hadn't tried to stop her, she'd just nodded and lifted the corners of her mouth up in what felt like a smile. Angelica's face had twisted something awful at that, and Eliza reminded herself to practice smiling.

The clock downstairs chimes twice, and five minutes later, Maria's knocking. Eliza peers out the window, but she can't see the door from her position. She quietly makes her way downstairs, careful not to tread too heavily on the stairs that creak under too much pressure. She hasn't made a noise by the time she's in front of the door, taking as much caution as to only breathe in shallow breaths. She doesn't know why she does this, it's not like Maria is capable of breaking down the door and forcing Eliza to speak to her. Still, she doesn't move.

Maria knocks for the better part of twenty minutes before Eliza hears a sigh. An envelope is slipped underneath the door, and Eliza hears Maria's heels receding back from the house and towards the paved roads. 

Eliza doesn't dare do anything but stare at it for a few minutes. Does Maria really want so badly to speak with Eliza that she wrote her a letter? She bends down and flips it over, finding "Ms. Elizabeth Schuyler" penned expertly on the front.

Does she want to read it? Does she want to know what Maria has to say to her?

She takes it to her room and stuffs it underneath the mattress, she doesn't want to hear Maria's side of the story. She's not ready for that. Not yet.

**III.**

December. Eliza decides that she loves December. The house is freezing, and Eliza finds that she's perfectly content lying in bed all day underneath a mountain of blankets. Angelica comes in a few times throughout the day, as do the children. Angelica's getting tired, Eliza can tell, but she doesn't mention a word of fatigue to Eliza, for which she is extremely grateful. It's selfish, but Eliza wants Angelica around as long as possible. 

The children have started smiling again. Maybe they've been smiling this entire time, maybe this is only the first time Eliza's noticing it. They laugh and play downstairs most mornings and afternoons. They tell Eliza wild stories of their trips to the park with Aunt Angelica, who watches from the doorway and smiles as the Hamilton children crowd around their mother's bed. 

It seems like everything is slowly putting itself back together, the way it was before Burr struck Hamilton. Maybe even before that, Eliza likes to think, things might be going back to the way they were before Philip and Peggy died. Everything except Eliza.

She can feel the disappointment coming off Angelica and the children in waves when she won't get out of bed. They've allowed her almost six months of grieving, and Eliza thought that that would be enough, but the feelings still overwhelm her some days and she can't do anything. Moving on is a task that's proved impossible.

Eliza didn't want it to turn out this way, either. She wants to accompany Angelica to church on Sundays. She'd love nothing more than to take the children to the park and watch them run and jump and laugh as if their father, brother, and aunt weren't dead. She'd love to, but something inside of her won't allow her to do so.

Maria doesn't come every day anymore, and Eliza's not entirely sure if it's a relief or a disappointment. Maria was one of the constants in Eliza's life, she knew when she'd show up and exactly how long she'd stay, but not anymore. 

Usually it's once every few days, three times a week at the least. On days when Eliza's feeling particularly courageous, she'll peer through the windows and watch as Maria tries desperately to get someone to answer the door. The snow falls heavily most days, and Maria's cheeks and nose are bright red more often than not. Maria showed up on an especially cold day on one occasion, the clattering of her teeth loud enough for Eliza to hear through the walls of the house. Eliza had almost taken pity on the girl that time, almost opened the door and invited her right in.

But she still wasn't ready. One day, she's sure that she'll be ready to face Maria. 

Maria's appeared with black eyes and bruises splattered across her neck and wrists before. Eliza knows exactly who gave them to her, after all, her husband's mistreatment is the thing that drove her to Alexander in the first place. Her heart aches whenever she watches Maria fix her hair in a way that covers the bruised skin on her neck. She looks as helpless as Eliza feels.

Today though, she looks all right. She almost looks happy, the way she assumes her position in front of the door and rasps her knuckles against it. She looks around, eyes falling on the window. She squints in Eliza's direction. Despite Eliza not moving a muscle, Maria's eyes widen as she realizes what she's staring at.

This isn't good. Eliza pulls away from the window, but it's too late. Maria's seen her.

"Hey!" Maria steps off the porch and closer to the window, seeming not to mind that she's getting her shoes dirty. "Excuse me," she taps on the window, but Eliza's halfway across the room now, not trusting herself to go any closer. "Ms. Schuyler, please, I just want to talk."

Eliza takes a step forward, and then five back. Maria's begging, pleading with Eliza for a few words, and Eliza's certain she's never heard anything sound so sad and so broken. She wants to open the door.

Instead, Eliza runs upstairs. She runs upstairs and doesn't go back down for the rest of the day.

**IV.**

Spring. Spring brings new beginnings. 

Eliza's improving, coping. She ventures outside regularly now, always accompanied by the children or Angelica and only as far as the street, and it feels good. She had forgotten what grass smelt like, how the sunlight felt on her face during the early morning hours when there was still a chill in the air. She sits with the children on the back porch most weekends, more than happy to read to them and listen to their school stories. James tells stories in such a wild manner, his arms flying about gracelessly and his facial expressions so perfectly matching his action, that Eliza laughs.

She honest-to-god laughs. And it's such a foreign sound to her but she keeps laughing and the children are just as awestruck by the sight of their mother laughing and at some point it becomes crying but Eliza's not sad. Her children wrapped in her arms, sniffling against the fabric of her dress, has her crying happy tears, ones of joy rather than sorrow. She's missed this. She's missed being a mother.

Eliza reminds Angelica every day that she wants to make a trip up to their father's house, to visit the lake. Angelica gives her a pained look every time and nods her head sharply, but she never tells Eliza the reason for her discomfort. It's something painful, the secret that Angelica's keeping from her, Eliza knows from the way Angelica's brows are knitted down and the mist in her eyes whenever Eliza brings up the trip. But Angelica doesn't divulge, and Eliza certainly doesn't ask. Subconsciously, Eliza knows. She doesn't allow herself to acknowledge it, not after all the progress she's made.

With the better weather, spring brings back the frequency in Maria's visits. She only comes when the children are at school, and leaves before they get back. A thought that this is intentional, that Maria's timing is impeccable because she's so used to be someone else's secret crosses Eliza's mind one day. It's immediately followed by ones of disgust for herself for thinking something so cruel.

Maria, Eliza thinks, has convinced herself that Eliza's always on the other side of the door. She slips letters under the door every week now, and they never say anything particularly important but Eliza finds that she looks forward to reading those letters more than anything else in her life. Eliza thinks that one day, when she's well enough to open the door, she'll introduce Maria to commas. The way Maria writes is something Eliza finds endearing, the way it feels like it was written in haste and Maria spared no time for punctuation or a once-over to make sure what she wrote made sense. She often repeated herself, the same line being written a few times, but Eliza doesn't mind. She keeps the letters by her bedside, and reads them whenever she can't fall asleep.

She's all but forgotten about the very first letter Maria slipped into the Schuyler house, but she decided she wouldn't read it a long time ago. It wouldn't be the same as the letters now, it wouldn't be mindless scribblings about Maria's day or her child. That one, Eliza knows, was given to her in desperation, and it's contents are most likely reflective of that. Eliza doesn't want to imagine Maria in a state of despair or anguish, she much prefers reading Maria's letters when they have absolutely nothing to say, when they are serving absolutely no purpose. 

Today, the letters stare back at a bed-ridden Eliza. She's got a splitting headache, brought on by thinking too long and too hard about her dead loved ones. Even Angelica's pleading could not get her out of bed, and in her frustration, Angelica had left. Today's not a good day.

But there's Maria's knock on the door, and Eliza can faintly hear the girl begin a story. Eliza's been worried about this moment all day, the moment she'd have to choose whether forcing herself to get out of bed is worth listening to Maria's stories.

It is.

With a thin blanket wrapped around her for good measure, Eliza pushes down every thought that's telling her to lie back down. She stands, and it feels like it's the most difficult thing Eliza's ever done, but she makes it downstairs.

Maria's story feels like a reward for Eliza. She presses her ear against the wood even though she doesn't have to, even though Maria's speaking loud enough that she could hear just fine without doing so, and listens. 

Maria speaks of her daughter, starting with how happy Maria was when she found out she was pregnant, and how indifferent James had been. Maria had, at that moment, resigned to dedicate every fiber of her being to this child. That's why she went to Alexander, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to provide for her daughter on her own. She was willing to do anything to make sure her daughter was taken care of, even if that meant sucking up what remained of her pride and approaching a married man. Eliza's heart hurts.

Maria leaves only a few minutes before Angelica comes back, and Eliza wonders if they've ever passed each other in the street. Angelica finds Eliza out of bed, reading a book in the parlor. Eliza watches as her sister's eyes become glassy, and she wraps her arms around Eliza and tells her that she's so proud of her for being so strong. This confuses Eliza. Her own strength isn't what got her out of bed, not even close. 

It was all Maria.

**V.**

Five days. Maria hasn't been seen in five days. No knocking, no letters, no stories, nothing. Eliza's truly terrified that Maria's given up on her, and that she could only stand so many times not being invited into the Schuyler house before cutting her losses. Eliza spends the afternoons pacing from one side of her room to the other, and it drives Angelica up the wall but she thinks that pacing is a healthier alternative to what she wants to do, which is lie in bed and become dead to the world. 

Angelica leaves when the children aren't home, Eliza knows that it's probably just to get away from her but she can't muster up any real concern about it when all she can think about is Maria. 

Maria abandoning her is something Eliza's not yet prepared to deal with. She won't allow herself to say it out loud, but thoughts of Maria bring new emotions. Ones that make her insides feel like they're filled with butterflies. Ones that make her blush wildly, even though she's sure that no one knows the impure dreams Eliza's had about Maria's bright red lips on her own. She feels guilty for having such thoughts and still not being able to face the girl.

So she paces, she stares out the window. She makes her bed, she goes downstairs and dusts the picture frames, something she hasn't done in a long time. She does anything that she thinks will keep her mind off of Maria, but ultimately, she's unsuccessful.

Eliza doesn't go to bed. She sits by the front door in hope that Maria will show up, even though it's approaching midnight. She doesn't move for hours. She watches the sun slowly rise, hears the children start to stir upstairs. Eventually the house is empty, and Eliza doesn't remember seeing anyone leave but she's glad that they're gone.

It's five past two, and there's no knock. Only a single piece of paper slipped under the door, and Eliza's sure that she's never moved faster than she did getting to the door in that moment. She can tell Maria's still there, she's breathing heavily on the other side of the door.

_My Dearest, Eliza;_

_I am sorry for not coming to you at all in these past Five days but my husband has become suspicious as to where I go most afternoons and I did not want to anger him further so I stayed But I thought of nothing but You the entire time and I am sorry if I frightened you because it was never my intention to do so And if you'll allow it I'd like to continue visiting every day because nothing gives me more joy than knowing you and my heart truly does hold you in its highest affection_

_Maria Reynolds_

Eliza reads it over and over and over again. She understands what Maria's saying, she thinks. She feels it too.

"Eliza? Are you there?" Maria asks after a few minutes of silence, and Maria's hopeful tone is one she's grown accustomed to. But she doesn't trust her voice not to fail her, so she knocks. It's not much, and Eliza knows that Maria deserves so much more than a single knock, but it's all she has to give. It will have to be enough for now.

And for Maria, it's more than enough.

**I.**

Angelica's had it. It's been a year since Alexander died, and ten months since the woman who bedded him for years decided that she'd appear at the front door of the Schuyler house every single day, hellbent on talking to Eliza. 

Whether it's the heat of mid-July getting to her or her own frustrations finally coming to a head, Angelica's not entirely sure. The one thing she is sure of, though, is that she's going to make sure that Miss Maria Reynolds never bothers them again. 

Eliza's waiting in the parlor, and Angelica thinks that Eliza's under the impression that she's being discreet. She's definitely not. She glances at the door, and then at Angelica, and then back at the door, and then back at Angelica, until the familiar sound of Maria's knock breaks the silence and they're both rushing to get to the door first.

Angelica wins, bumping Eliza out of the way and swinging the door open with all the force she can muster. The girl on the other side looks shocked that the door's finally opening after these long months, and Angelica almost pities her while she thinks of what she can say to the girl that will offend her enough to make her never want to come back.

"Listen, Maria," Angelica starts in a cool voice, knowing that two sets of eyes are entirely focused on her at this moment. "I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why you come here every day. Whatever your reasoning, I could not care less. This needs to stop. You need to stop."

"I understand I've been a nuisance, but if I could please have just a moment of Ms. Eliza's time I promise I'll never bother you again," Maria's eyes ghost over Angelica's shoulder, landing on Eliza. Her tone is desperate, and Eliza would have never guessed that a sound so pathetic would have come out of a woman so beautiful, so seemingly put together, if she hadn't seen in it the flesh.

"Haven't you caused her enough trouble?" Angelica's being cold, and Maria's face falls. Eliza takes a step forward, having neglected to think about what she's about to do but not stopping herself either.

"I'll speak with her."

Angelica turns and gives her sister a look that Eliza thinks is a bit overdramatic. She's looking at her as if she just agreed to talk to Aaron Burr, the man who shot her husband, instead of just having agreed to speak with Maria Reynolds, who only had an affair with her late husband. 

"Just for a moment," Eliza assures Angelica. She gestures for Maria to follow her inside, and despite herself, Angelica steps aside. She mumbles something about needing some air as she steps outside, shutting the door behind her.

Eliza sits in the chair she'd not moved from for weeks right after Alexander's death, watching as Maria looks around the room, not knowing what to do with herself. Eliza points to the seat across from her, and Maria quickly sits. It's hot in the room, and Maria's presence only makes the temperature increase. 

"So," Eliza begins. "You got what you wanted. What would you like to say to me?"

"I'd like to begin with an apology," Maria takes a deep breath. "I never got the chance to apologize to you personally for... What I did. And I'm so sorry that my actions caused you to hurt. I know it's not a lot, and it's years overdue, but I never knew how to approach the subject. I've spent many a night penning letter after letter to you, but I felt this was an apology that warranted a meeting. Coming here every day, I'll admit, was a bit extreme. But my body would not allow me to rest until I apologized to you in person."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Maria," Eliza starts once she's sure Maria's finished speaking. "I don't hold what you and Alexander did against you. I understand."

"You aren't," Maria pauses, as if collected her thoughts to make sure she head Eliza right. "You aren't mad at me?"

"No. I was never mad at you, I never blamed you for anything. Your apology is appreciated, but unnecessary."

"No, you need to be upset with me, you have to be upset," Maria's voice is on the edge of despair again, and Eliza's perpetually confused.

"Why?"

"If our roles were reversed, and I was staring at the bitch who had an affair with my husband, I'd have a few things to say to her," Eliza winces at Maria's choice of words.

"I forgave Alexander for his indiscretions a long while ago, it would be silly of me to-"

"No, that's completely different. You forgave Hamilton in public, we aren't in a room of senators and socialites right now, you don't have to do that. It's just you and I, stop acting so, so stoic!" Maria's emotions have gotten the best of her, and her voice starts to rise.

"I'm not acting, Maria. My heart has never held an ounce of anger towards you," Eliza assures her, and she isn't lying. Disgust after Alexander admitted to his adultery in public, sure. Pity, of course. Frustration, yes. But never hatred or true anger. 

"You're telling me that you aren't angry about anything that happened? About anything in general?"

"That's right."

"Well I am," Maria laughs, but it's an empty sound that sends a shiver straight down Eliza's spine. "I'm angry about a lot of things. I'm angry at my husband for beating me, cheating me, mistreating me like I'm some sort of wild animal that's not worthy of his love. I'm angry at Hamilton, for not pushing me away when he should have, when he knew that I was vulnerable and in a bad place and mistaking his kindness for true affection. I'm angry at you, Eliza, for putting on such a brave face in the midst of so much betrayal, for forgiving Hamilton and allowing him to remain in your heart even though he had forfeited that privilege the second he laid his hands on my body.

"I'm angry with myself, Eliza, Lord knows I'm so damn angry with myself. I'm angry at myself for marrying a man like James, a man who has no reservations when it comes to treating his own wife like a common beggar. For seeking Hamilton's help and begging him to stay with me, even though I knew what it would lead to. For falling in love with your husband and dreaming of a time where he could be all mine, even though he was never mine to fantasize about. For putting my own daughter, my own flesh and blood, in harm's way by staying with her father and not being able to swallow my pride and move back in with my parents, because yes it would've been proving them right, that I'm not worthy of being loved, but it would've spared her from watching her father leave marks on my skin that don't fade for days. I'm so angry with myself for how selfish I've been my entire life, and even in this moment, I am here for selfish reasons. I come to the house of the woman whose husband kept me for years as a shameful secret, begging for an apology that will allow me to feel better about myself and what I've done, even if only for a moment.

"I'm angry with every politician that used my name to hurt you, Hamilton, and your family. I am mad at the entire country for making history of Hamilton and I's bad judgement. I am mad at future generations, who will only know my name because I am the slut who wooed a married man into her bed and took money from him in exchange for her husband's silence. I'm angry that I was even born, that I'm even alive right now, because I know that if I were dead, I wouldn't be the source of pain for good people like you who've done nothing wrong but still get hurt by people like me. I am overcome with anger every second of every day, my dear Eliza, it overwhelms me. Have you never experienced anger? Are you truly so much better than I that you've never been angry with someone who has wronged you in the worst ways?"

"You loved Alexander?" Is all Eliza can say. She's surprised. Maybe, just maybe, if Maria loved Alexander, she could love Eliza as well. 

"Yes," Maria wastes no time with lies or excuses, completely, unapologetically honest in this moment. "I loved your husband with every bone in my body. But Eliza, listen to me, if I could take it all back I'd do so in a second."

"Okay," is Eliza's simple reply. Okay. 

"I'll leave now. Thank you for allowing me in your house, Ms. Eliza. Thank you for allowing me to take some of your time," Maria stands up, and she wipes away the tears that her honesty had brought on. Eliza shakes her head.

"No," she speaks softly, but this isn't the time for passiveness. "No. Sit down," Eliza's surprised by how authoritative her voice is, and if Maria's expression is any sort of indicator, she isn't the only one. "You want to know what things I hold anger for?"

"I," Maria looks taken aback. "Yes."

"Alexander. I will eternally be angry with Alexander for bringing a married woman into our bed, and ruining all of our lives by clearing his name. I'm angry with him for never being able to meet my expectations, even when they were as simple as coming back to bed and staying alive. Peggy, for leaving me and Angelica so early and being so much more incredible than the both of us put together but always being perfectly content to reside in our shadows.

"Philip, my son, for being so much like his hardheaded father and dying before he even got a chance to live, for leaving his siblings who loved him so much and who will never experience as much pain as they did when their brother left them. Mr. Eacker, for not aiming at the sky, for aiming to kill my son and doing so. Aaron Burr, for choosing he and my husband's duel as the moment to finally grow a backbone, for decided that he was no longer content with waiting when he and Alexander held pistols in their hands.

"I'm upset with Angelica for treating me like a child this entire year after Alexander's death, for not forcing me to be the mother my children so desperately needed in the months after losing their dear father. I'm mad at your husband, I'm mad at every man who has ever held his hand up to a woman in anger. I'm angry at you for being angry with yourself for a decision that you made in haste and as a reaction to the deplorable actions of your husband, and for the consequences that that decision brought with it.

When I look in the mirror, dearest Maria, I see someone whom I'm angry with, disgusted with, and whom I sometimes hate more than anyone else. Anger, for the way I have let myself be seen as helpless so many times in life. Hatred, for the way I've acted in the months since Alexander left us, ignoring my children, taking advantage of Angelica's love, and allowing myself to think things of you that no woman deserves. Disgust, for the way I've treated you, not answering the door, not letting you in during the cold, not saying something the second I saw the discoloration on your neck and wrists. The way I've let you come and go every day, not saying a word, watching you from the window and listening to you for my own selfish reasons, Maria, it makes me downright furious. This entire year, you've been the only person I regard as a friend, and I refused to even open the door," Eliza's out of breath and slightly alarmed at what she admits to Maria. 

"Why would you consider me a friend? I'm nothing to you," Maria's voice is so quiet it reminds Eliza of a mouse.

"That's entirely untrue, Maria," Eliza shakes her head, her correction not unkind. "While I opened the door only once, knowing that you would visit me every day got me out of bed. You were something to look forward to," Eliza's not sure where all of this is coming from. She hadn't realized just how much Maria helped her get better, and how indebted she is to her. She also hadn't realized just how fond she was of Maria until she looked into the woman's eyes. 

It must've been Maria's dedication, the way she was so set on saying something to Eliza that no number of times the door and her pleading went unanswered would be enough to force her to quit. The way Maria leaned against the door and whispered senseless things to herself, that Eliza could only hear if her ear was right against the door. The way that Maria slipped letter after letter under the door, but was never visibly angry when there wasn't one waiting for her in return the next day, how it seemed to Eliza that she knew that they weren't there yet, that it'd take time for Eliza to work up to that. The way she'd pass the time by recounting stories of her childhood and her daughter for Eliza, who always sat on the other side of the door with her ear pressed against the wood, soaking in every word that fell from Maria's red stained lips.

"If this is true, why didn't you let me in sooner?" Maria's voice is still a whisper, but it feels more like a shout to her in the quiet parlor. Eliza purses her lips.

"I was afraid that you'd say something like you did to Angelica," Maria gives her a look of confusion, prompting a further explanation from Eliza. "That if you spoke with me, you'd leave us alone. Truth be told, I do not want you to leave me alone, Maria. I want to keep speaking with you, I want to see you again," it doesn't sound like much, and there's so much more Eliza wants to say. She wants to tell Maria that she loves her, and that nothing would please her more than having Maria's love in return. 

"Don't say things that you don't intend to see through," Maria warns, and Eliza shakes her head. She understands Maria's caution, but it is unnecessary. 

"I promise you, I don't speak words that I do not mean," Eliza's standing now. When did she stand? It doesn't matter, because Maria's standing too and she looks like she wants to say something but the words are stuck in her mouth. 

"Do you want to take a walk with me?" Maria finally breaks the silence, although her choice of words is confusing to Eliza. "I know you haven't been out much, and I've found that walking with a friend is a great way to get one's mind off of the midsummer's heat," Maria extends her hand.

She takes her hand. But Eliza's not content with that, and so she pulls Maria into a hug and buries her face into the crook of Maria's neck and if any thoughts of how right it feels to be in Maria's arms while Maria's fingertips ghost across Eliza's back crosses her mind, it's no one's business but her own. Eliza thinks she hears Maria whisper that she loves her in her ear, and Eliza thinks she mumbles the same thing into Maria's shoulder. 

Maria accompanies Eliza uptown that day, neither knowing what to do in regard to their feelings, but knowing that they didn't want to be alone. Eliza paid no attention to the looks thrown at her, obviously confused at the sight of Alexander Hamilton's widow and his mistress, walking through town and laughing like old friends. When the looks become too much for Maria to bear, though, Eliza suggests that they walk through the park. They do. They don't stop walking until well after nightfall, confiding secrets and sharing stories and Eliza even finding the courage to reach for Maria's hand once she's sure the lack of sunlight prevents anyone from seeing her do so. Eventually they walk back to the Schuyler house, Eliza pleading with Maria to stay the night because it isn't safe for a woman to walk home by herself after dark. Maria agrees.

They don't talk about the consequences of their feelings. No one brings up James, Maria's daughter, Angelica, or any of the Hamilton children, and what they would say if they knew Eliza and Maria harbored affection for each other. Eliza doesn't care what others might say, but Maria can't afford not to, so Eliza doesn't bring it up. She loves a woman who she's certain loves her back. That's all that Eliza needs. 

Eliza lies in bed and Maria pulls a chair to her bedside, resting her head against Eliza's legs and humming absentmindedly as Eliza combs her fingers through her hair. Around what feels like midnight, Maria asks Eliza if she likes it uptown.

Eliza decides that she likes it uptown.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Maria's actual letters to Alexander contained no punctuation and random capitalization, so that's why her letter to Eliza is basically a run-on sentence. If nothing else in this is historically accurate, at least I can say that's Maria's writing style is.
> 
> I'm on tumblr @jasminescephas :)


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